When Otha Anders walked into the small, bustling local bank one bright Thursday morning, he drew every eye in the room — and not because of his attire or his warm smile, but because of the clatter. Tipped by the metallic rhythm echoing off the tile floors, customers and tellers alike turned to see what had caused such a distinct and attention-grabbing noise. Anders, a familiar figure in the Jackson community, was carefully maneuvering a large dolly stacked high…
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